Drunk Owling
by narbiglarb
Summary: A collection of letters Harry receives in the middle of the night from intoxicated people.
1. Harry Freaking Potter

Harry Potter, is, of course, a very famous wizard. Let's recount some of his major accomplishments.

When he was a baby, he got rid of Voldemort. That is pretty freaking rad. Voldemort was the biggest and baddest bully on the playground, killing people left and right as if it was as casual as teeter-tottering with Billy, and Harry, the little scrawny kid that had no friends, showed up Voldemort with his wicked ninja skills. Domination.

When he was a first year, he beat up Quirrel and stopped Voldemort from getting the Sorcerer's stone. Now, that is pretty admirable. An eleven year old pulled this off? Impressive! He also knocked out a troll, pissed off Snape, walked through flames, played a giant game of Wizard's chess, survived two encounters with a gigantic three headed dog, became BFFs with Dumbledore, befriended a half-giant, ginger, and nerd, became the youngest Gryffindor seeker in a while, was an awesome seeker, faced an attack from devil's snare, and showed up Malfoy.

When he was a second year, he killed a basilisk with a bloody awesome sword he pulled out of a hat that a phoenix delivered to him. He then continued to use the tooth as a weapon to destroy a part of Voldemort's soul. He also sent a grown wizard to St. Mungo's for irreversible spell damage, saved Ginny Weasley's life, heard voices, was accused of being the heir of Slytherin, talked to snakes, opened the Chamber of Secrets, had a foot-long tooth puncture his arm, and nearly died but lived because a phoenix cried on him.

When he was a third year, he could cast a patronus. He met a werewolf. He went back in time. He saved his godfather and a hippogriff. He was extremely sexy. He was still rockin' at quidditch. He saw the grim, thought Divination was stupid, blew up his aunt, wasn't expelled, rode the Knight Bus, met Stan Shunpike, encountered a criminal in the Shrieking Shack, was nearly killed by a werewolf, defeated hundreds of dementors, fainted on a train, passed out on a broom stick, and attended Hagrid's classes.

When he was a fourth year, he saw Voldemort come back to life and managed to save his life. He also escaped a lake full of mermaids, rescued a French girl, rescued Ron, brought Cedric's dead body to his parents, didn't allow his death eater teacher to kill him, had a death eater pretending to be an auror as his defense against the dark arts teacher, resisted the imperious curse, became even more stunningly attractive, beat a dragon, was amazing on a firebolt, went to the Quidditch world cup, saw Viktor Krum, was a tri-wizard champion, answered a riddle given by a sphinx, uncovered the mystery of Barty Crouch, Winky, and Barty Crouch Jr., attended a ball at Yuletide, and so much more awesome stuff Harry himself could not keep track of it.

In the fifth year, Voldemort possessed him and Harry miraculously survived. He became a total hottie, rode some thestrals, met Luna Lovegood, shooed away some dementors, saved his cousin, figured out Arabella Fig was merely a squib, managed to not get expelled, attended a hearing, hated Umbridge, let centaurs take her away, started the DA, became one B.A. DA teacher, got some scars, snogged Cho Chang, witnessed Fred and George break out of school, attacked Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, and he made plans to become an auror.

Sixth year? Just the same level of awesome, if not raised by forty seven billion. He recovered a horcrux, became really good at potions, used a bad boy curse on Malfoy, snogged Ginny Weasley, was BFFs with Dumbledore again, saw some memories that had to do with Voldemort, and really, was freaking awesome.

In the seventh year, Harry destroyed some horcruxes, died, came back to life, and killed Voldemort. Along the way, he broke into Gringott's, escaped Malfoy manor, became the possessor of the resurrection stone, became the master of the Death Stick, survived an attack from a giant snake, broke into the Ministry of Magic, stole Slytherin's locket from around Umbridge's neck, found out Snape wasn't evil, saw the dead versions of Lupin, Sirius, and his parents, became a godfather, oh, yeah, and he killed Voldemort.

Just to recap very briefly – Harry vanquished Voldemort not only once, but twice. And he also survived the killing curse twice. Pretty rad.

So, upon reflection of some of the milder feats of awesomeness, Harry could not understand why anyone would ever demote his status of cool by running a degrading and outright lie in the Daily Prophet.

Whatever story got him down, though, he always had a way to cheer himself up; fanmail.

Harry received a lot of fanmail – he was Harry Freaking Potter. Of course he got a butt-load of fanmail. So, whenever he was in one of his little pouts because the Prophet had printed something he found horrendous, he simply waved his magic little wand and summoned a big stack of fanmail he kept in his bedside cabinet.

This wasn't any fanmail – this was fanmail that praised Harry. Complimented his bum. Told him he was extremely irresistible. They worked perfectly to cheer up a mopey Harry.

**A/N: I plan on continuing this randomly whenever I get bored or think of an idea... **

**Drunk owling? Yes. **

**Go to the next chapter to see a letter from Blaise Zabini... oooh!**


	2. Blaise Zabini

**Author's Note: **

**I would like to point out that reading this in a British accent is quite enjoyable. **

**Yay for drunk owling. **

**Yay for entertainment. **

**Yay for reading HPFF!**

**Thank you very much for reading this :) Now, let me finish up this absurd author's note so we can get along with the story :)**

To The Boy Who Lived (or the Boy with the Beautiful Bum. I personally like this one better, because it mentions your irresistible backside),

You're probably surprised that I'm writing to you. Actually, not really. You probably have recieved unusual and disturbing fan mail in the middle of the night before and it's not uncommon for the Boy with the Sexy Bum to get a lot of it.

Not only are you famous, but your arse if wonderful. I bet half of the wizarding world doesn't give a newt's tail about how you killed Voldemort and are the Boy Who Lived and all of that crap. They only care about that perfect bum you have. If I weren't in Slytherin and you weren't in Gryffindor and that silly little automatic rivalry weren't between us, I would definitely appear at your flat on a regular basis to fondle that butt of yours. And it wouldn't be awkward or creepy because you know how to work it.

Yeah, I saw you strut around Hogwarts like a little underwear model. I never failed to notice your bum or to picture you in the boxer briefs that you obviously imagined yourself wearing. Each time I saw you, Harry, a little piece of my ice-cold Slytherin heart began to melt. Your incredibly hot bum is what did it.

It got to the point where I started to have dreams about your bum. We would walk around Hogwarts, your arm around my shoulder, my arm firmly wrapped around that superior rump of yours. We would skip all of our classes and I would be allowed to inspect your sexy backside. This dream was recurring. Over and over again. And then, I would wake up and get to breakfast extra-early so I could see you walk in, shimmying your hips, grabbing the attention of students and professors alike with that fantastic backside that you owned.

But then we graduated. I no longer got to see your bum every day. So for three full years, I have tried to gaze upon backsides of other blokes, but yours is so much sexier that I cannot stand to try and compare any rear to your rear. I have not seen any bum that comes anywhere close to the beauty of yours. Maybe it's because you know what you have and you know how to own it, you know every one is fawning over it, and that it really is an irresistibly amazing bum.

That's why I'm writing, this, Harry. Sure, I am a wee bit sloshed, but you needed to know this. I needed to tell you, Harry, that your bum is essential to my survival. Essential.

And I fell in love with it. I am in love with that adorable arse of yours, Harry Potter. I need it to survive. I need your bum. Seriously. I am not joking. Please, just let me see your bum. I will make a portrait of it and hang it on my wall so that everyday I can wake up to your bum dancing around on my wall. I will take a picture of it so every day I can stare at your bum, let it hypnotize me, until my shell of a life turns into something more and I am alive again. Your bum will give my life meaning.

Enclosed is a picture of my own bum in a mini-skirt. Yeah, it's amazing, but it is hideous when compared to the beauty and wonder and magic of your rear. Perhaps you will see the picture and decide to send me a picture of your own bum.

I'm loving the bum,

Blaise Zabini

P.S. If you are not already aware that you have a fantastic bum, you have been sadly misinformed. Your bum is quite wondrous, Harry. Don't let anyone tell you anything different.


	3. Draco Malfoy

**A/N: I'd like to point out that this was actually a part of one of my other stories, _Those Are Some Irresistible Trousers, _but it fit so perfectly in here :)**

**Plus, I don't decide what letters are in here. Harry does. And this one is one of his personal favorites, so how could I not include it? **

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_To Mr. Harry Sexy-Potter-Pants, _

_As the little greeting message there points out, your pants are undeniably sexy. I mean, really. How could any one deny that you have sexy pants? _

_I did try to tell you earlier that I love you. And here I go, again, and I swear that I won't cross it out, darling – I love you, Harry! I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I absolutely freaking adore you. And your pants, of course. Would you mail them to me? _

_And now, I must apologize for being such a complete toad all of those years at Hogwarts. I mean, really, your pants were sexy. How could anyone resist that? And with me being a Slytherin and you being all smug in Gryffindor, I couldn't just run up and snog you. It popped into my head a couple of times, but something like that, at Hogwarts, at least, is absolutely taboo. _

_So I decided being a brutish fool would be just as effective as running after you screaming "Harry, I think you're pants are absolutely dreamy!" You see, both would either make you really hate me or want to skip around the grounds with me, holding hands. Maybe you would lend me a pair of your pants, even._

_Somehow, my plan took an awful turn of events. You deduced that my constant flirting and being absolutely awful to you meant that I didn't like you. I was flirting with you, you dunder head! What did you think it meant? Obviously, I wanted to get in your pants. You cabbage. _

_So, you sexy panted fool, I love you. And, just for the record, I'm pretty crocked right now. That doesn't really mean much to me, but it seemed like a good point to add to explain why my penmanship is so awful. _

_I want your pants. And maybe, one day, I'll get in them. _

_The one, the only, _

_Draco Malfoy _

**A/N: Creeps me out that this originated in my head. **


	4. Ron Weasley

**A/N: This one isn't as weird as the Blaise one... or even the Draco one... I'm trying to stray away from the "I'm totally in love with you letters and you are irresistible" take on it. For now... **

**And I typed this using only the right shift key... **

**I usually use the left one but it is being stupid and won't work. Grr.**

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Ron Weasley

_Dear Harry,_

_How's it going, mate? Been having a good week? I know, it's been _forever _since we've talked, but, you know, Hermione won't quit with the wedding plans. What a psycho. Remember her hounding us about homework? Imagine her planning a wedding..._

_And in the spirit of the wedding, I can't help but to wonder if I'm doing the right thing. I _think _I am, but who knows? I could be kidding myself, you know? _

_So that's why I'm writing to you (aside from the fact I had one too many shots of fire whiskey and we haven't written in nearly a month). I want to confirm what I think I know. And that is that I am in love with Hermione._

_For a while, I've thought about this. Am I in love with her? Of course. If I wasn't, why would I get married to her? But what if I'm gay? I've got to admit to you Harry, if I happened to be gay, I think I'd be your boyfriend. You're bloody attractive, mate. I'm not joking._

_Seriously. You know I'm not gay, since I'm getting married in two weeks, but you would make an ideal boyfriend. You're the boy who lived, you're bloody adorable, your bum is perfect, everyone wants to get in your pants, we've been best mates for a long while now, and, in general, you're freaking awesome._

_You're just perfect, Harry. You appeal to the ladies. You appeal to blokes. You even appeal to hippogriffs. Especially Buckbeak. That's pretty rad, man. _

_I really do hope that I haven't creeped you out. But, in case you are feeling upset about my upcoming wedding, you should know that you would be my number one choice. If I was gay. Which I'm not. _

_So, that pretty much concludes things. I'm getting married, you're a hottie, blah blah blah._

_See you soon!_

_P.S. – Can we have a snog sesh at the bachelor party? It seems like a good idea. I mean, once I'm married, I won't be able to kiss your face off, so I might as well get it out of my system._

**A/N: I was thinking about doing a Christmas letter. Since, you know, it's almost Christmas. **

**So it is probable that a Christmas one will appear shortly before Christmas! Or maybe slightly ****after, I don't really know. **


	5. Voldemort

**Merry Christmas, everyone :)**

**Reading this like a tipsy (or extremely smashed) British person can be quite enjoyable. However, I find that if I try different accents aloud, I fail miserably at them. The plus side is that is is hilarious to picture Voldemort with a Southern Belle accent. **

**Well, ain't this peachy, y'all? **

**Voldemort wishes all of you a happy holiday.  
****Happy Christmas.  
****Happy Chanukah.  
****Happy Kwanzaa  
****Happy Festivus  
****Happy anything else you may celebrate in December!**

_Dear Harry Potter,_

_ It's Voldemort! Yeah, I know, you're probably really surprised. I would be, too, if I wrote to myself. Probably because whenever I got the letter I wouldn't remember sending it and question how sloshed I had to have been to send such an idiotic load of tosh._

_I can understand your surprise, though. If someone were trying to kill me (you don't count, since you're such a pansy little cabbage and you cannot possibly kill me. Nobody can), I would be shocked to receive a letter from them. Because why would they bother writing me a letter when they should be worrying how to kill me? In fact, I should be plotting your death, but I think it's too fun to chill out with Bellatrix. _

_I'm just wishing you a merry Christmas, mate, since it's nearly Christmas, you know? It makes sense. It's the holidays! Soon, a creepy old man will come out of your chimney and 'give you presents'. I dunno, but that just sounds a little terrible to me. I mean, it could be life threatening. Aren't I the only one who is allowed to kill you, Harry? So that's why I put protective spells on every fireplace you may come in contact with on Christmas eve – I can't have anyone threatening you, Harry, when I am the only one who is allowed to kill you!_

_Aside from the creepy old man that insists on creeping around, everyone is partying! If _I _am partying, there is no excuse for you to be holed up at Hogwarts or wherever the bloody hell you're staying. Go, get some firewhisky, get as crocked as I am, and have a party! If you're scared of Santa or anything, tell me or a death eater all about it and I'll have the problem fixed, pronto. I don't want you scared of a fat old fool when you should be terrified of me and only me. And maybe you could party with me! I wouldn't kill you – I would giggle too much and I can't cast spells very effectively while I'm all bombed. _

_I've even got to admit that the idea of me getting wild is a little hard to picture. In fact, I'm currently having a burping contest with Bellatrix Lestrange. Trust me, there are lots of bottles going 'round, we're all having some fun, and I even put some moves on Bellatrix. They worked **perfectly**. I just sayin', she thought I was awesome before, but now I'm like, totally rad, you know? If you need some help with the ladies (actually, I should have said _since _you need help with the ladies), be sure to owl me and I'll give you some tips. They work like a charm. Obviously. And _no, _Potter, I did not cast the imperius curse on her. _

_Quite frankly, I was a little too tipsy to do those kinds of spells. Ooopsies! I did try it, but all that came out of my wand was bubbles, so I had to go for a different tactic – evil hottie-ness. Nobody, not even YOU, can resist my evil hottie-ness. Go ask Bellatrix, she'll tell you! So I acted like an evil hottie, and she totally went for it. She even told me that she thought I had a crush on you since I spend so much time plotting your death and thinking about you! Just because I'm trying to kill someone doesn't mean I have a crush! So I got insulted and sulked around like an evil hottie, and then she told me I looked pretty freaking sexy._

_See, Potter? That's how you get a girlfriend, a talent that you obviously lack. You've got every girl in the school chasing after you, but you don't have a girlfriend. You're almost as famous as _I _am and you still somehow manage to overlook all of the girls. I just don't understand. _

_Are you crushing on that Ronald fellow? If you are, I swear, I'll kill him. You are MINE. Only I am allowed to crush on you. And what about that mudblood, Granger? If you're putting moves on _her_, I won't give you any of my tips to score with the ladies and I'll turn you into a bagel._

_And bagels are disgusting. Worst food ever. If I were given a choice between eating a bagel and having you kill me, I think I'd let you kill me. _

_Oh, look at this! Some death eaters have started a game of Go Fish! I think I'm going to have to go play that, Harry. As much fun as this has been, I'm afraid I'll have to go. _

_Stay golden. _

_-Tommy Riddle_

_P.S. – I forgot how to spell my other name. You know, the other one. What is it? Moldymort? I dunno. Maybe you can just call me Voldy? I've always like that one. _

**A/N: See, isn't Voldemort pretty cool when he's potted? I think so. **

**You know what my absolute favorite Chritmas presents are?**

**Reviews!**


	6. Severus Snape

To Mr. Harry Potter,

When I first learned that you were attending Hogwarts, I was shocked. A little angry, really happy, extremely excited, totally pissed off, and, most importantly, paternal. I'd never had a son of my own, and you, Lily's son, were soon to be in my presence. You were also the product of that disgusting pillock, James Potter, so I wasn't sure how to act about this. If you looked like him, I swore I would punch a toddler.

For several months, I prepared myself for your arrival. Would I be obsessed with you or would I be a complete jerk and tell you to go crawl in a pile of rancid manure because you would be too bloody incompetent to attend my potions class? I was raging an internal war with myself from the first moment that Dumbledore mentioned you would be attending Hogwarts. He didn't give me enough time – I never had a chance to calm down and get my bearings before you decided to drop by and get sorted.

And when you finally set foot in the Great Hall, I was elated. I saw you and the other first years crowd around the stool, eagerly awaiting your sorting. Surely, you would be a Slytherin. Lily would have wanted that since she really liked me. Seriously, I was BFFs with Lily Evans. If you don't believe it then you're a jerk. Even though you had unfortunately inherited James' awful genes, you had inherited some things from your mother – and that would be the need to be in Slytherin. Sure, Lily was in Gryffindor like that prat of a husband she had, but she had your best interests at heart. She knew that you belonged in Slytherin. And so did I.

So that's why I was very upset. You weren't sorted into my house! We could have been best friends, chatting over our cauldrons in potions class and relaxing together in the common room! You could have visited my office and told me what a bunch of cabbages the Gryffindors were! We could have had tea and biscuits and conversed about how great Lily was! We could have sent each other Christmas presents! You could have helped me grade the Gryffindors' potions essays!

But _no. _You, the little tosser that you were, had to go and get sorted into Gryffindor. Gryffindor. The rival of Slytherin. So, naturally, as much as I worshiped you, kid, I hated you. You looked like your dad. You strutted about like your dad. And, most importantly, you caught the attention of all the ladies like your dad, and you didn't even do anything about it! How could that irresistible quality have carried on for two generations? Didn't James use up all of the swagger Hogwarts could ever contain? How was there any left for you? And then you made sure I knew how cool you were. Before I had even talked to you, I knew how cool you were.

Potter, it wasn't long before you walked into potions arm in arm with that weasel, Ronald. You sat down and chattered for a little bit, and I was so jealous. How dare that red-headed freak of a ginger get the honor of talking to you, Harry Potter, when all I got to do was hate you? Liking you, or showing that I liked you, would be unacceptable. You. Were. A. Gryffindor. I could not have any sort of positive, friendly communication with you without all of the Slytherin house making fun of me endlessly. How could I deal with losing my respect?

Still, I was excited yet angry to see you sitting there, expecting Potions to be as cool as your other classes. I didn't know whether I should run around screaming like a fan girl or smash your face off with a frying pan. Both were tempting offers, but for the sake of my sanity, I simply acted like a complete tosser.

Still, it's a shame that we were never able to jam out to Coldplay in my office. I could have taught you how to play the guitar. Sleepovers would have been so awesome! We could have popped some popcorn, watched some movies, then told ghost stories in our sleeping bags! If you ever decide to come back to Hogwarts from wherever you're hiding, we should arrange a sleepover. Would be really fun, what do you think? I mean, Voldemort's going to find you some day. You might as well let him find you while having a whole lot of fun playing board games in my office.

Sincerely,

Severus

P.S. - Monopoly for the win

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**A/N: Seriously, monopoly rocks. **

**I wrote this because it's a 'snow day' **

**When I look outside, all I see is some rain. **

**Okay. **


	7. Dudley Dursley

**AN:**

**I'm sorry it bothers you that some letters are in italics and some aren't. To be quite honest, I just do whatever I feel like the day I'm typing these letters. **

**And for _this _letter, please become angry. Please become large. And please become a ballerina. Like that crazy girl in _Black Swan_. Even though she's not large.**

**I am terribly sorry about this TERRIBLE author's note!**

**

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**

**For Kelsey. **

**You'll see why.**

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Harry Freaking Doodle Doo,

Do you have any idea of how jealous I am of you?

I'm really jealous.

Not just jealous.

But mega-freaky-mammoth-jolly-amazing- super-sensationally-incredibly jealous. Aboundingly-chemically-tree-computer-cloistered-equally-ajar-divergently-compactly-garrulously-pretzel-judiciously-incredibly-gutturally-hysterically-keenly-quizically jealous. So jealous that I just combined a whole bunch of words to try to express the magnitude of my jealousy. I'm not completely sure what they mean, but they're there and they should intimidate you.

Or else I could intimidate you by punching you. That always works. You know why? Since you're such a little fart knocker that you probably don't know the meaning of any of those words, either. Plus, I'm pretty good at punching. Yeah, boy. I could punch off your face. Be afraid.

Be incredibly afraid of how cool I am. Because I am so much better than you and you should be the one who is jealous, anyway.

I know. You're a freak. You know that I know that you're a freak. I think you're a freak. You know that I think you're a freak. I know that you know that I know and think you're a freak. Yeah, Potter, I'm more complex than you think. I'm not just a large person who thrives on pelting small children with rocks – I'm a large person who enjoys pelting small children with rocks (including you, even though you're twenty) and dancing.

You heard. I'm a ballerina. Who's jealous now, punk? Yeah, that's right. _You _are jealous of _me. _

You wish it was _you _who got to wear tights. You wish it was _you _who got to run around in pointe shoes and a tutu. And, most of all, you wish it was _you _who was me. You are just incredibly jealous of me, aren't you, Potter? Sure, I don't wear pointe shoes or tutus, but I'm sure you wish you did. And tights are very comfortable. You should give them a try one day, seriously.

Plus, other kids do Ballet, too. I met my best friend, Tommy in ballet class. It's super fun. We regularly beat people up. Like that idiot, Tyler. He does Ballet, too, but he's really bad. He doesn't get parts in any of the shows because he sucks at dancing. And everything else, really.

Me? I got the lead role. Whaddup.

I am just so cool. I dance. I beat people up. I key people's cars. Yeah, I'm just a lot of fun. And you aren't. You're a lot of not fun.

Never thought you would see the day, would you? Actually, you've always been jealous of me; you just never say anything about it since you're such a cabbage. A rotten, rancid, something-else-that-starts-with-an-r cabbage. Did you know that? I bet you did.

So, aside from how cool I am, how many friends I have, how many chocolate bars mummy and daddy buy me, and what a bloody good ballerina I am, I dominate you on the coolness scale.

I mean, you've only saved my life from some cloaked morons. Pssh. I could have done that myself if I didn't have that headache. And you had no friends except that owl. Ha! Like I needed animals to like me. And, come on, you were hiding from that noseless fellow for years! And when you finally ended your camping trip or whatever that little outing with your 'friends' even was, you killed him easily. What a pansy. I face all of my opponents like a man.

Even if they're only seven.

Yeah, I have to admit, I'm jealous of you. Mega jealous.

You know why?

You had some cool giant break into that shack and take you to Hogwarts.

You got to go to Hogwarts!

You once dropped a pudding on Mrs. Mason's head.

You never had to dine with company! You got to stay in your room and play with your dolls!

I can't deny it, Harry. You're cool. You're awesome.

You're mega-freaky-mammoth-jolly-super-sensationally-incredibly cool.

And I want to be just like you.

I want to be a wizard.

I want to be able to beat people up _and _curse them. That just sounds fantastic.

I want to use potions to make me a better dancer.

I could cast a spell on everyone and make them think I was the best dancer out there.

I could have gone to Hogwarts, like you.

I could have been cool, like you.

But I'm not.

I'm just a dancer trying to be as cool as you are.

What am I saying? You're not cool at all. You're a scrawny little idiot who relies on a piece of wood instead of strength. I don't need a wand. When I have a problem, I punch something and get my way.

Who is the jealous one?

Obviously, it's you.

-Dudley

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**AN: By the way, I'm a beta now. Wowza! I know. So if you need a beta and are willing to look past my occasional mistakes, I'll beta for you. WOO. **

**And if you don't need a beta and have nothing to do (even if you have something to do, like homework, or you're about to leave your house to meet Rumbleroar) go visit these people. They make me chuckle. Actually, if you are about to visit Rumbleroar, take me with you. I have a rocketship we can use. **

**But seriously. Go check it out.**

**lucypevensie42**

** imbananasfordananas**

**Wowza Powza Fee Fi Fo Fowza! I don't even know.**

**Yeah, I'm insane. **


	8. Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way

**AN: I know that if I am writing Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way, I should use terrible grammar. I can't. I will try, though. So the first part will be her letter.**

**The second part will be my translation so you can actually understand what is happening.**

**If you have not read My Immortal, I suggest that you do so RIGHT NOW. Basically, Ebony is the biggest Mary Sue ever and... yeah. Just go read it. **

**So, have fun losing a couple of brain cells.**

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Der Harry,

iz it ok if I cul u Vampir? Ur nam is vempire, ritr? So dats wut im gonna cal u. so der.

Mi nem is Enoby Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way. I wet 2 Hugwarts wiff u wen we were in da 7th yeer at Hogwerts. I wuz 17 at da tim.

So, anywey, Vameipre, I fink ur relly sexah. I meen, more sezxah den Gerad Way, who I;m nut realted 2 bat I wish I wuz bcuz he is a mjaor hottie.

Aniwey rite now im waring 7 pears of bollood red skull errings with blak dyemunds (gedddit cuz im goffik?) in dem end red ripped fishnets with ponty blak bots. Im wering a short leader blak skirt that shuwz haff ma butt and im waring a leater bra with no shirt. U mite fink imma slut, but really, im not.

Rmeember dat toime Vldofemort tol me 2 kill u wif dat gun? Dat wuz so funny, remimber? End Snap and Loopin wer masticating 2 a vido tap of me nakd? Good timez! And I wuz so deprezzed dat I killed miselv wiff da steak I got at Longhorn.

Bud anyway dis is wut hapend affter I gradiated frum Howgarts. Sinze im a vempire, I lik to drink blod. I decidead 2 git a job wurkin at Hot Topic in Hogzmade. I made out wiff Tom Rid and he put his thingy in my u-no-what and we had u-now-wut but then he took off hiz mask and id trund out dat he was realy acshully Volfemort! I rean away but den he caught me.

Anyqwat, it turtnz out dat Voldemport is really sexah and we had you-no-wat and know were merried and we lived happly ebey after.

Luv,

Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Tom Riddle Voldemort Tara Way

* * *

Dear Harry,

Is it okay if I call you Vampire? Your name is Vampire, right? So that's what I'm going to call you. So there.

My name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way. I went to Hogwarts with you when we were in the seventh year. I was seventeen at the time.

So, anyway, Vampire, I think you're really sexy. I mean, more sexy than Gerard Way, who I'm not related to, but I wish I was because he is a major hottie.

Anyway, right now I'm wearing seven pairs of blood-red skull earrings with black diemonds (get it, because I'm Gothic?) in them and red ripped fishnets with pointy black boots. I'm wearing a short, leather black skirt that shows half my butt and I'm wearing a leather bra with no shirt. You might think I'm a slut, but really, I'm not.

Remember that time Voldemort told me to kill you with that gun? That was so funny, remember? And Snape and Lupin were masturbating to a video tape of me naked? Good times! And I was so depressed that I killed myself with a stake I got at Longhorn.

But anyway this is what happened after I graduated from Hogwarts. Since I'm a vampire, I like to drink blood. I decided to get a job working at Hot Topic in Hogsmeade. I made out with Tom Riddle and he put his thingy in my you-now-what and we had you-know-what but then he took of his mask and it turned out that he was really actually Voldemort! I ran away but then he caught me.

Anyway, it turns out that Voldemort is really sexy and we had you-know-what and now we're married and we lived happily ever after.

Love,

Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Tom Riddle Voldemort Tara Way


End file.
